Twins disappeared in 2002 —21 years later, their mother finds something shocking in an online video…

How it only took ten minutes to get back to the building and everything had already happened. How she was ignored, judged, abandoned by her husband, and even accused by her neighbors of selling the girls. Isabella turned pale.

We always heard they abandoned us. Margaret said our mother didn’t love us. They left us in an inn in Romania.

Romania? Estella is pretending. But you disappeared in Brazil. Yes, but Margaret took us into an orphanage in Bucharest.

But, you only remember that from the age of twelve. Before that, everything is confused. Deleted.

A shadow of horror passed over Estella. It’s impossible. You disappeared in Brazil.

That was in 2002. I have proof. The police investigated.

It was in the newspapers. How did you end up in Romania? The young women looked at each other, confused. Margaret has always been very strict.

A controller. I never wanted us to have cell phones. We were only allowed to use the internet when we were eighteen.

And yet, with many restrictions, Estella then took the envelope and began showing the photos. The two stopped talking. Each image was a hidden memory.

A long forgotten emotion. This is the park where we play, said Isabella. That doll was mine, said Anna Clara, taking the doll from her mother’s lap.

They started crying again. But this time, it wasn’t just sadness. It was the pain of lost time.

Of lies told. Of a stolen childhood. Estella then asked, Who is this woman? Where is she now? The twins said Margaret had been admitted to a private clinic in Austria.

She was seventy-four years old and had suffered a stroke the previous year, partially losing her ability to speak. Estella asked to see her. He had to confront the woman who had taken his daughters away.

But the girls hesitated. Do you think she… kidnapped us? I don’t think so. I’m sure of it.

And if I’m right, there are other truths you need to discover. In the following days, Estella stayed with Clara and spent hours with her daughters. He knew their routines, the instruments they used in their performances, their composition notebooks, many of which contained lyrics that spoke of a nameless void.

A place that no longer exists. A house no one remembers. It’s our soul trying to remember.

Estella says enthusiastically. Until the day of the clinic visit. Estella was determined.

She was elegantly dressed, carried a letter in her hand and was accompanied by Anna Clara and Isabella. The clinic was luxurious. A modern castle with flower gardens, where silence screamed.

Margaret was in an armchair, staring into space. He had neatly combed gray hair but dull eyes. The girls bowed respectfully.

Estella stayed behind, watching. And then he came closer. He stopped in front of her.

I’m Estella. The mother of the girls you took from me 21 years ago. Margaret’s eyes moved.

A slight tremble ran through her mouth. Estella took out of her pocket a photo of the twins when they were still little. Holding the rag doll.

You took them from me. They were just children. Margaret looked at the picture.

He started to cry. But he didn’t say a word. Why did you do that? Estella cried through her tears.

The nurses have arrived. The visit is over. But as they were leaving the clinic, one of the caregivers quietly approached them.

Mother. Estella. I’ve been looking after Mrs. Margaret for two years.

There’s something you need to see. She handed him an envelope. Inside there was a newspaper.

And on the first page, written in firm handwriting, what I did in 2002 will condemn me forever. Estella, Ana Clara, and Isabella looked at each other. This was the beginning of the answer to all mysteries.

But what else had Margaret written? And what Estella was about to discover? It would change not only her story, but that of her daughters forever. The silence in the car was thick, as if each breath weighed a ton. Estella held Margaret’s diary with trembling hands.

Her daughters looked at her torn between anxiety and fear. The first sentence was enough to shake everything. What I did in 2002 will condemn me forever.

They arrived at Clara’s small apartment and sat down in the living room. Estella took a deep breath. I opened the second page.

The first time I saw them was in a cafe in Rio de Janeiro. They were alone. His mother had moved away, distracted.

And there, for a moment, the pain found a space to manifest itself. Estella put her hand over her mouth. The tears flowed effortlessly.

It was real. Margaret took control. She was there.

She saw them. She took them away. I observed them for a few days.

I discovered their schedules, their routines, their mother’s carefree attitude. I was…I was obsessed. Something inside me told me these girls were meant to be mine.

Isabella and Ana Clara were in shock. That night I followed them to the apartment building where they lived. I waited for their mother to come out and there, in a few minutes, I had them.

A car was waiting for me. Everything happened quickly. Silently.

They were asleep. He had put something in the drink he had left for them earlier in the park. When I picked them up, they didn’t scream.

They didn’t wake up. It was the perfect crime. Or at least, that’s what I thought.

Estella was trembling. The pain was unbearable. In Romania I forged documents.

I said they were orphans. I used old contacts, people who owed them favors. When I woke them up, I told them they had been abandoned, that they were now safe.

They cried for days. But over time, they accepted it. Or they got used to it.

I told them their mother didn’t want them. That they had forgotten them. Ana Clara was sobbing.

I thought I was giving them a better life. I lied to myself. I knew I had destroyed a family.

But pride, madness, blinded me. I raised them rigidly. I forbade them all contact with the world.

And the older they grew, the more they hated me without knowing why. Estella closed the newspaper for a moment. I couldn’t continue.

Isabella took his hand. Mom, we can read with you. We are strong.

We need to know. And so they continued together, page after page. In the following stories, Margaret demonstrated her guilt…